


hold my hand (i'll hold yours)

by WhirlyBird70



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, aka my thesis on why sanjis hands arent soft, also luffy doesn't keep himself safe and that also hurts me, but are still his treasure !!, but like. its just intimacy. hand holding, it is very important to me okay, okay this could be sanlu if you want it to be., this is rated teen for the fuck word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-23 23:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhirlyBird70/pseuds/WhirlyBird70
Summary: It’s a quiet moment in the kitchen when Luffy takes Sanji’s hands into his own.If it were anyone else (even a lady, Sanji admits) he would have pulled his hands away. But this is Luffy, his captain, who had burned governments and conquerors and tyrants for daring to harm his crew.This is Luffy, his captain, who protects his crew’s treasures (hats, swords, tangerines, precious memories and books and shells -) just as much as he protects them.Luffy knows not to harm.(Or, Sanji and Luffy, and hands being held.)
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	hold my hand (i'll hold yours)

It’s a quiet moment in the kitchen when Luffy takes Sanji’s hands into his own.

If it were anyone else (even a lady, Sanji admits) he would have pulled his hands away. They can’t come to harm, can’t be risked, not when Sanji has a crew to feed, not when Sanji has a family to feed. 

But this is Luffy, his _captain,_ who had burned governments and conquerors and tyrants for daring to harm his crew. 

This is Luffy, his captain, who protects his crew’s treasures (hats, swords, tangerines, precious hats and books and shells -) just as much as he protects them. 

This is Luffy. 

And Luffy knows not to harm.

So Sanji lets him, carefully letting his hand go lax as Luffy pulls it away from where he’s prepping a meal. His captain’s fingers trail up Sanji’s wrist, mapping veins and skimming over fine hairs before trailing back down, to his knuckles, smooth and unbroken, and to callouses, worn from years of being a cook. 

Luffy’s quiet. Contemplative. Almost in the way he gets while staring out to sea on his special seat. 

His hand carefully traces the lines on Sanji’s palm, running them over and then pushing against the callouses and scars.

Sanji… Sanji _knows_ his hands are his treasure. He can’t cook without them, can’t serve and protect and feed his beloved crew without them. It’s why he fights with his feet - keeping them far away from swords and flames with practiced proficiency. It’s why he keeps his hands in his pocket, lights his cigarette with precision, why he works to keep them safe. 

But - 

He is a cook. 

His hands are tool as much as a treasure, and no one is immune to slipping with a knife or burning with a hand too close to a pan. 

His captain’s thumb brushes over the scar he got from his first time trying to fillet a fish, when the knife sunk in just below his thumb and curving onto the back of his hand - small now, but monumental then when Sanji was eleven and scared of all the blood. Luffy’s hand traces up to when a glass shattered in the kitchen, leaving small pinpricks over Sanji’s hands that left a scar because he was terrified of letting Zeff know he fucked up. His pinkie finger, when Luffy glances by it, has lines of white marks from when Sanji decided to smoke and cook at the same time and smacked his hand right into the over rack. Little mistakes, forged into lessons. Little stories that his captain will never ask about, but Sanji will tell him anyway, after quiet moments like these. 

“Mmm,” Luffy hums, finger just passing by the starburst splotches on his fingertips when Sanji had been trying to work with grease the first time. “Your hands are cool Sanji!”

He looks at Sanji, bright and earnest, and Sanji can’t help but too flush and give a gentle smile, before putting down the ladle to take a drag of his cigarette. “Thank you, captain.”

 _“Shishishi!_ ” Luffy laughs, and lets go of Sanji’s hands. 

And - well -

He doesn’t get these quiet moments with his captain often. Sanji snatches Luffy’s hand back, prompting another laugh from his captain.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Luffy. This time, Luffy just holds Sanji’s hand, gently and smiling, and rests his head down on the counter. 

Peaceful, quiet, and treasure safe, Sanji returns to cooking, captain by his side. 

—

Luffy wakes to warm brown and the gently rocking of the waves. The smell of something _chemical_ is in the air, mixed with something sweet and - 

_Oh._

He’s with Chopper, in the infirmary. Cool.

 _Well_ , he realizes as he returns to wakefulness, _not cool._ Bandages are around his chest, digging into his scar even as its clear Chopper tried to be careful, and swathes of white circle around his neck and legs and head. For once, his hands are unbandaged. 

Luffy turns to the side and - Oh.

It’s his cook, pile of bandages by his side, old and fresh, holding Luffy’s hand in his own. 

_Sanji,_ Luffy thinks, quietly, eyes still bleary, as he looks at his cook. His bangs are shielding his face as he carefully traces Luffy’s hand, with soft, calloused fingers.

 _Oh,_ Luffy thinks, and lets it happen, sinking into the bed.

Luffy’s hands - Luffy’s hands are _rough._ Even rubber, he’s not immune to cuts, the sharpness of ricks or blades, the playing of little boys in mountains that were never quite safe.

(Underneath the scar on his chest are long, faded marks, from a lucky bear strike. He’s never been immune from scars.)

His childhood was filled with fun - with _adventure._ He ran from dawn till dusk, scrambling over mountain rocks and letting sharp thorns cut into skin without care. They formed tinny scars, most disappearing over the years, fading into tan skinned and warmed by the sun. 

But - here, _now,_ Sanji takes his hand and looks at it with scrutiny. His index finger slips into the groove where Luffy once impaled his hand in defense of a restaurant, his thumb just brushing the spot on his wrist that never quite faded from Porchemy’s spiked fists, made worse by molten gold from a god’s lightning. Sanji is… soft, with Luffy. Like how Luffy is with his hat, or Nami’s tangerines, or Zoro’s swords.

Like Luffy’s hands are treasure’s like Sanji.

(Which is _weird._ Luffy isn’t treasure. His hands were made to fight, to hurt, to be hurt, to _protect._ He stretches them out and snaps them back, purging them in fire and blood. 

His hands aren’t his treasure. They’re what he uses to _protect_ his treasure.)

It’s… odd, being treated so gently. His crew likes to do that - treat him gently, with softness, almost like Makino used to. Hands that tousle his hair or bandage his wounds without any hurting force, a gentle hug or a rub on his shoulder or back when he’s napping. It’s _weird,_ and so unlike how it was with Ace and Sabo.

He thinks he likes it though.

Especially as his cook treats him with such care, fingers dipping over fresh scars and new wounds from their latest fight, thumbing gently at knuckles to get a better look at the scratches. Sanji’s hands rub too deep at one point, and Luffy’s skin starts _stretching._ Sanji doesn’t stop though, only gives a little laugh and continues with his ministrations before finally reaching for the bandages.

Luffy, with glazed eyes, still watches. 

His cook is gentle. His cook is _kind._ He’s seen it a thousand times before. 

It’s so rarely directed at him, though.

He’s quiet as the bandages get wrapped with careful precision around each individual finger, binding and soothing with salves laid underneath. Sanji’s quick with it, skill in every feature. 

After Sanji’s finished, his head lifts up, just a little, and Luffy can see the bags under his eyes. He’s - _sad,_ but in the proud kind of way, in the loving kind of way. 

It’s not even a thought in Luffy’s mind as he squeezes Sanji’s hand in his own and gives his cook a blinding grin. He can’t quite muster up the energy to give a laugh, but he hopes the love in his eyes will be enough.

Sanji jumps, whipping around like he got caught red-handed, before alighting on Luffy’s face. 

“Shitty-Captain,” He grins, odd without a cigarette in the corner. “Let me go get Chopper for you, alright?”

He’s only an inch up before Luffy summons all his energy and _squeezes_ Sanji’s hand, pulling him back down.

“Stay,” He rasps, quiet, tired, black on the edge of his vision. But it’s enough.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Sanji says, squeezing his hand back and nestling further into the infirmary bed. His voice grows softer. “Aye.”

Luffy gives him another smile, unable to feel the callousness of Sanji’s hands through his bandages, but feeling the warmth just the same, and falls asleep, precious cook by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> AND THATS WHY SANJIS HANDS ARENT SOFT THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK ALSO FEAT LUFFY ISSUES ABOUT TREASURING HIS BODY AND KEEPING HIMSELF SAFE
> 
> anyway. yeah. posts this instead of studying. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! <3 
> 
> \- whirly
> 
> [My Tumblr!](https://whirlybirdwhat.tumblr.com)


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